


Not The Place to Fall in Love

by dorkysetters



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Pro volleyball Oikawa and Ushijima, Road Trips, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkysetters/pseuds/dorkysetters
Summary: For reasons only his heart can explain, Iwaizumi allows himself to be drug across the airport into the bathroom. He half listens to Oikawa’s frivolous remarks about the memes Hanamaki keeps sending him, and doesn’t that lady right there look ridiculous in those clown shoes? And then, too suddenly for Iwaizumi to keep up with, Oikawa’s carefree grin turns into a painful grimace.Ushijima stands in front of one of the urinals of the airport bathroom, doing what one does in front of urinals and has yet to notice them. Iwaizumi turns to share a silent conversation with Oikawa, to ask what the hell? and set up a game plan. Do they tease him? Do they walk out? Do they pull down his pants and leave him stranded, alone in the bright white airport bathroom? The options are limitless, really. But Oikawa is staring at Ushijima and is too busy having a silent conversation with himself to worry about Iwaizumi.-In other words, a story about falling in love at all the wrong times and ridiculous foot wear.





	Not The Place to Fall in Love

Iwaizumi is stuck, perhaps perpetually, in level four of Candy Crush.

Although this is the least of his worries at the moment, he can’t help but grumble at his aggravatingly neon screen with annoyance.. It’s been _five_ hours since they got to the airport, meaning Iwaizumi has survived five hours of sliding candy this way and that for seconds at a time only to be inevitably interrupted.

“I’m pretty sure only old people play that game now,” the interruption remarks. Oikawa leans across the arms of the disappointingly uncomfortable waiting room chairs they are seated in to glance at Iwaizumi’s screen. “‘I always knew my Iwa-chan was secretly a grumpy old man in disguise. He sighs dismissively, all while a sly grin slowly takes over his features. “I wish you would have told me beforehand. Your ticket would have been _so_ much cheaper.”

“Sit in your own seat, asshole.” Iwaizumi pushes Oikawa away and, ignoring his protests at being treated so unfairly, turns to put his phone in his pocket. He hopes the turn of his shoulder is enough to hide his blush at being called “my Iwa-chan,” or that at the very least Oikawa has lost at least 50% of his perceptive abilities after being trapped in the airport with no stimulation for so long.

Iwaizumi has always loved airports. They’re big, loud, full of hope and potential. Oikawa has always hated them, and Iwaizumi can see it now in the way he anxiously scans the crowd of unfamiliar faces around them. His shoulders are unnaturally straight and pulled back. His posture screams _I am untouchable_ , and it is convincing, for anyone searching for chairs in the full waiting area scurry elsewhere when their eyes reach Oikawa’s proud, rigid form. It makes Iwaizumi want to grab his hand, but for the moment he isn’t sure if the untouchable part applies to best friends or not.

He checks his watch. They still have an hour or so before their flight is ready to board. Oikawa had insisted on being unnaturally early, and Iwaizumi had complied with little to no complaining. Oikawa mirrors Iwaizumi and checks his own watch. “Do you think we’ll be late?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Only if it takes us an hour to walk ten meters.”

Oikawa huffs. Iwaizumi takes out his phone again.

Oikawa is uncharacteristically quiet. Iwaizumi has to stop himself from doing a tiny victory dance in his seat after he reaches level five. A text momentarily stops him from lining up five yellow candies.

_From: Oikawa_

iwa-chan~~

Iwaizumi swipes the notification away and watches as the candy disappears. Level six.

_From: Oikawa_

i can see ur phone from here :3 congrats on leveling up, old man iwa-chan

Iwaizumi turns to flip Oikawa off, and receives a strained smile in return. There is more silence. Level seven, and then level eight. Nine, ten, eleven. He reaches level eighteen before his phone gets another notification.

_From: Oikawa_

you know, there’s a 86% chance we’ll both die if the plane crashes

Iwaizumi starts at this. He turns in his seat, ready to spout the facts and data he had memorized the day before. _There is a one in 29 million chance we will not walk off that plane._ He had been kept awake the night before after talking with Oikawa about the trip, wondering how Oikawa’s ever present anxiety was going to twist the safety of a plane into something horrible. He had imagined dramatic explosions, smoke pouring out of engines and catching flame. He had armed himself with information, just in case Oikawa needed it. He is about to say something about how the last airplane crash was in 2015 when his phone, forgotten in his hands, dings again.

He glances at Oikawa, but Oikawa is looking down at his phone, his expression casual and bored, as if he’s run out of things to like on Instagram.

_From: Oikawa_

maybe we should go home. lol

Iwaizumi puts his phone away. “Oikawa.”

He makes his way off of his seat so that he is squatting in front of Oikawa. He receives no response, so he pokes the setter in the leg to make sure he’s listening.

“Tell me the stats for a plane crash.”

Oikawa hums and makes sure the hem of his shirt is still intact. “And why would I know that?”

“Well, then tell me the stats for getting into your school. Into the volleyball program there.”

Oikawa shrugs dismissively, like someone who hates bragging but can’t tell the truth without unwittingly doing so. It makes Iwaizumi want to headbutt him.

“Only three percent of the applicants get in, remember? _Three percent_ .”

“I know that.”

“Then tell me, why should we go home?”

Oikawa stares at him now, and his face is full is full of questions he probably doesn’t want answered.. _Aren’t you scared, too?_ Yes, Iwaizumi wants to answer, but not of the same things you are. _What if they just send me back anyway? What’s the point?_ Iwaizumi’s own eyes are impenetrable and knowing. He stares back, hoping he’s managing to get his silent message across. You are amazing. You deserve this chance.  

Only a second passes before Oikawa breaks their staring contest, eyes darting around anxiously for the smallest of moments to see if anyone has noticed his sudden break in character. “I suppose I can endure the _devastatingly_ long flight. Even though it will be practically unbearable sitting next to a brute like yourself.”

“Good.” Iwaizumi clears his throat and makes to return to his seat. Oikawa has relaxed, and his posture isn’t screaming now as much as talking. He waves and coos gently to a baby a few seats away and earns a tiny smile, both from the baby and it’s mother, both hopelessly charmed by his easy smile and fluid movements.

Iwaizumi is charmed, too; has always been. Is charmed and amazed by his ability to quickly recover from anything. One look at Oikawa would never let you on about the anxiety he had surely felt moments before, or that he was leaving everything he knew behind to pursue a unsecure career. For the second time today, Iwaizumi has the urge to take his hand.

He stops himself at the last seconds, and runs his hand through his hair instead. Iwaizumi swore to himself, and to Hanamaki and Matsukawa, that he would not come back to Japan without confessing someway, somehow. But a crowded airport is not the place, and right before a fifteen hour flight is not the time for a confession.

He doesn’t expect to be accepted. Oikawa has had so many confessions from so many people, most better than Iwaizumi in every respect. Iwaizumi does not expect to be accepted, but he will not let Oikawa go without telling him everything. And as long as he doesn’t have to sit next to his rejector fifteen miserable hours, everything would be fine. Probably.

Minutes tick by in comfortable silence, and Iwaizumi gets to level twenty-one. Oikawa decides to mark the occasion with a trip to the bathroom.

“I’ll watch our stuff.” Iwaizumi assures.

“No, no,” Oikawa insists, pulling Iwaizumi’s phone from his hand and putting it in the pocket of his jeans. “You have to come with me, Iwa-chan. It’s boring doing it alone.”

“Do you think you could sound more perverted if you tried?”

Oikawa sticks out his tongue. “So immature.” He drags Iwaizumi to woman with the baby. “Excuse me, do you mind watching our stuff for a moment?”

The woman assures them she can, and the baby babbles pleasantly in agreement.

For reasons only his heart can explain, Iwaizumi allows himself to be drug across the airport into the bathroom. He half listens to Oikawa’s frivolous remarks about the memes Hanamaki keeps sending him, and doesn’t that lady right there look ridiculous in those clown shoes? And then, too suddenly for Iwaizumi to keep up with, Oikawa’s carefree grin turns into a painful grimace.

Ushijima stands in front of one of the urinals of the airport bathroom, doing what one does in front of urinals and has yet to notice them. Iwaizumi turns to share a silent conversation with Oikawa, to ask _what the hell?_ and set up a game plan. Do they tease him? Do they walk out? Do they pull down his pants and leave him stranded, alone in the bright white airport bathroom? But Oikawa is staring at Ushijima and is too busy having a silent conversation with himself to worry about Iwaizumi.

An hour passes, and Ushijima zips up his pants. Oikawa tenses. He squeezes Iwaizumi’s wrist, trying to tell him something, surely, and then he’s off, turning around sharply. Iwaizumi has to stumble to keep up, and now they’re headed out the door. Oikawa pulls down the light switch just as he hits the exit and the bathroom is flooded with black.

“ _Holy shit,_ ” Iwaizumi hisses as the door closes behind him, leaving Ushijima trapped in the dark.  
  
Oikawa continues to pull him, heading in the direction of their things. “What the _fuck_ , Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi isn’t sure why they’re both whispering, but he doesn’t feel inclined to stop. It feels as though Ushijima, and in turn Shiratorizawa, is leaning over them, trying to learn their secrets. They practically run back to their luggage, and then Oikawa is squatting behind their chairs and looking over the top cautiously, like they used to do when they would play spy in his backyard. Iwaizumi joins him, and they see Ushijima walk out of the bathroom.

“He’s _hideous_ ,” Oikawa whispers, and Iwaizumi nods. They watch as he makes his way towards them, towards _their_ waiting area. “Holy shit,” Oikawa wheezes, and the shocking boyish-ness of the sound pulls all the tension from the air. “Iwa-chan, oh my god. Look, look! He’s wearing _crocs_ .”

Iwaizumi looks, and sees that it is so. They’re bright yellow and look out of place in the stainless steel surroundings of the airport. “Holy shit,” Iwaizumi breathes. Oikawa hasn’t stopped wheezing, and Iwaizumi is forced to cover his mouth with his hands as Ushijima sits in the seat directly behind their hiding spot.

Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa and Oikawa, trapped in his place behind Iwaizumi’s hands, is forced to stare back.

“What do we do?” Iwaizumi whispers, and Oikawa shrugs. “He’s right _there_ , Oikawa.”

Oikawa makes some muffled attempt at words behind Iwaizumi’s hand and Iwaizumi lets him go. “We could go get some plastic knives from the cafeteria. There are plenty of places to hide a body in an airport. Probably.”

“You’re a really shitty guy, you know that right?,” Iwaizumi’s voice slips from a whisper back to it’s normal volume, and Oikawa, returning the favor from earlier, uses both his hands to cover Iwaizumi’s mouth. Iwaizumi licks them in response, and Oikawa screeches as he pulls his hands back, already wiping them on his pants.

“Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa share a look. Yikes.

“Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa replies coolly. Teenage, boyish, silly Oikawa is gone, replaced by captain definitely not a genius Oikawa Tooru He does not dignify Ushijma’s presence by getting up, but instead falls back on his hands and leans backwards casually. He waits, inviting Ushijima to continue.

Ushijima coughs awkwardly, and picks up the bag he had just sat in his chair moments before. “I would refrain from using the restrooms. The lights do not work.”

As he leaves, Oikawa sucks in a breath of fast air disapprovingly. Iwaizumi mutters “asshole” in an equally disapproving tone and waits for Oikawa to laugh, even as he knows it won’t happen. The mood, and all of Iwaizumi’s good work from earlier have become sour. But at least now Oikawa isn’t focused on the 86% chance of them dying, but of how sharp the plastic knives in the cafeteria might be.  

“I pity the person,” Oikawa says cooly as he stands, offering Iwaizumi a hand up. His posture screams _I am a weapon. Do not touch._ “who has to sit next to _that_ on his plane.”

Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s hand without question. “And you thought you had it rough sitting next to me.”

Oikawa smiles.

* * *

Planes are not safe.

This thought consumes Oikawa entirely, until he is left with nothing more. Planes are not safe, are the opposite of safe, and yet he is sitting in one, allowing the stewardess to hand him a tiny cup of water. Iwaizumi is wrestling with his backpack, trying to fit it in the overhead compartment above, well, their heads.

“You could, you know, help me.” Iwaizumi grunts, but smiles triumphantly a moment later as the door closes on their things with a satisfying _klunk_.

Oikawa pulls himself into his chair as much as possible to allow Iwaizumi to slip past. He had made sure, when he’d bought the tickets, to get an aisle seat. As far away from the window as it gets.

“Cool, huh?” Iwaizumi asks, referring to the plane, his eyebrows are raised in a way that shows he is really asking are you okay?

“I can hardly hold in my enthusiasm,” Oikawa answers, his voice light in a way that says _don’t worry about me._ “Quick, Iwa-chan, check my pulse. Am I _too_ excited?”

“How do you always manage to make everything sound disgusting.” Iwaizumi huffs in a resigned sort of way as he settles into his chair, head angled towards the window, meaning either _okay, I trust you_ or _I always am._ Oikawa does not know which one he would prefer, so he translates it into _I really want to look out this window_ instead.

“I am a delight.”

Iwaizumi looks at though he thinks otherwise, but before he can dispute his face twists in confusion. “What the-”

Oikawa looks in the general area of Iwaizumi’s confusion, and feels his lungs drop into his stomach. Ushijima Wakatoshi is making his way towards them, strong arms holding tightly to a hideously green duffel bag as he searches for his seat.

Don’t sit here don’t sit here don’t sit here don’t-

Ushijima passes them, and Oikawa allows himself to release the breath he’s been holding in. And then Ushijima turns around, looks down at his ticket to check the seat number. And then he sits directly across from them.

Oikawa’s hand clench into fists at his sides. His teeth clench in his mouth. He is silent in his frustration as Ushijima takes far too long to put his tiny luggage into the overhead and sit down. He takes even longer to notice them.

“I did not realize you would be on this flight.”

Oikawa is about to say something poisonous, but Iwaizumi interjects with something blunt instead. “I’m here too, you know.”

“Iwaizumi.” Ushijima nods his acknowledgment.

There is silence. A baby cries a few rows above them.

“Oh,” Ushijima states, a sudden realization dawning on him. “Are you going to the acceptance ceremony in New York as well?”

Oikawa feels his face twitch. “I got accepted, actually.”

“Oh.” Everything about Ushijima, his expression, his voice, is a wall. A blank slate that does not portray any special meaning for the word oh except oh itself _._ Oikawa can not conjure the interest or energy to search for a deeper meaning. “I am glad to see you made a wise decision.”

The reference of past conversations dripping off of Ushijima’s word are not lost on Oikawa or Iwaizumi, and the fact that it is not intentional makes them both scowl. After a beat of heavy silence, Oikawa goes to put in his headphones, and turns to Iwaizumi, making sure his words are loud enough for the ex-captain of Shiratorizawa to hear. “Plane rides sure are exhausting, aren’t they, Iwa-chan?”

**Author's Note:**

> i've never written ushiiwaoi before so wish me luck :') also tendou gave ushi those crocs as a gift,, rip


End file.
